


Dreams

by FLAMINGO_Garbeaux



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, My first story on here is my very first piece of smut, Smut, Sweet but steamy, That's pretty wild y'all, These tags are useless but amusing, You know why it has this rating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FLAMINGO_Garbeaux/pseuds/FLAMINGO_Garbeaux
Summary: Sometimes, feelings that have boiled low for so long don't come out in a dramatic whirlwind that would fit into the great works of epic literature. Sometimes, they creep out in the middle of the night; when things are quiet and uncertain, when they are finally ready to be allowed to live.





	Dreams

Ashe stretches himself out with a sigh, the thin bed clothes he wears offering him a full and comforting range of movement. He feels his joints pop as he rolls his shoulders, tilts his head, pushes at his back; barely taking in his surroundings, hardly even able to concentrate on his own thoughts. He absentmindedly passes by the king sized four poster bed. Elegant shawls stretch daintily across its frame, for privacy or décor he never really figured out. He runs a hand across the large oak desk where Lonato used to sit and busy himself with stately matters. His eyes blink unseeingly around at the bureau, the marble fireplace blazing brightly, table and couch before it, the sturdy wooden door across from it, and the tastefully lavish rugs and wall adornments that washed the room in crimson and gold. Finally, he settles his gaze on the painting- the one of Lonato and Christophe.

The young lord sighs again, this time deeper and more frustrated. _'What would you say of me now, Lonato? What would you think, Christophe?'_

Things had been going well for the Gaspard territories over the last four years since the war. They had firmed up their alliances with the new lords that Ashe had called friends in his academy days, forged some new bonds among the alliance nobility, and even begun to improve infrastructure within the territory itself. Some of the other nobles in the region were still a little less than thrilled about the new lord being a common-born adopted son, but he had the support of his people.

And...he had _her_ support as well. That...that was what saved him.

His heart swells a little at the thought of her- and then just as quickly begins to thump apprehensively against his rib cage. There were rumors circulating about the two of them, so Ashe was nervous that the angelic young woman may be frightened away by the weight of it all. That, or she would be run off screaming by his younger siblings constant allusions to the perceived intimacy of their relationship.

But...no, no he was not giving her the credit she so clearly deserved. Marianne von Edmund was no longer the timid girl who surrendered with nary a struggle. She was a strong woman now; still shy and quiet, but firm and resolute when pushed.

She had come towards the end of Ashe's first year as lord. He had been doing well with the needs of the common folk, and easing the hardships caused by a five year long war, yet the other lords of his territory had been trampling over him politically. He was not well versed with these kinds of things, and though he was a quick study with the aide of powerful friends...well, there was only so much they could do from such great distances. He had been feeling the pressure, had seen the writing on the wall; the lesser nobles were beginning to try and yank political power away from him. Ashe had a month of near sleepless nights in constant worry and frustration...and that's when she arrived.

As if sent by the Goddess herself, Marianne took all of three months to straighten out the vultures circling in around Ashe. It was incredible to watch a woman so kind and gentle firmly handle a room full of loud and obnoxious men, eager to look down upon a young female newcomer and common-born lord. Yet they were cowed all the same, and soon after the lessons began.

She set him to mastering the finer points of noble etiquette. He already had a decent handle on the matter, but she turned him into an unstoppable force. From the little things, such as eating elegantly and with grace, to the biggest of issues- like how to smooth over an ego that could make Lorenz seem humble. She had guided him with a calm, reassuring hand; one that made him feel safe and confident at all times.

Those months had been so fast paced and fruitful. He hadn't even questioned why she had come to him. He just thanked her, over and over, and the smiles they shared could have probably lit up a room.

In hindsight, Ashe supposed it was inevitable that people had begun to assume that they would have been wed after the first year after her arrival. Yet here they were, two years on from then and not even the hint of wedding bells. No wonder there were those who assumed a scandal was brewing. Some looked at them with suspicion and judgment, but even more seemed almost tickled by the two shy and unassuming young people carrying on an elicit and torrid love affair in private.

His siblings were the worst offenders of this. They would ask her all types of terribly embarrassing questions, and Ashe felt his face redden at the mere thought of their prodding.

“_Oh my, Marianne! Doesn't my brother look so dashing today!” Delia would exclaim, her mischievous eyes glancing between them with glee. Ashe would plead with her, absolutely beg with his eyes, just to try and avoid her humiliating them both._

“_Oh! Ashe looks dashing every day,” would come the soft and kind reply, setting the young lords heart aflutter. “Though today, I suppose, he does look even more handsome than usual. Like a knight from legend.”_

_Delia held her hands together in absolute joy as Ashe's face burned like a fire. Marianne just kept on with that cute little innocent smile, continuing to busy herself with whatever she was doing._

And then his brother! The little traitor...

“_Marianne, Ashe hurt his hand today at training! I don't suppose you could help him feel better?”_

_Ashe glared daggers at Trent. Said teenager was feigning ignorance so well that he almost could have been convinced of Trent's innocence himself, had Ashe not known better. Marianne made a soft noise before taking Ashe's hand in her own, examining his bruise._

“_Really, it's nothing,” he grumbled aloud. He tried not to look at were their hands were connected, or focus on how soft her fingers were as they graced his skin. “Just a little bruise, I got careless is all...”_

“_Yes, it seems to be just a little bruise,” Marianne agreed in a gentle tone. The sound of her voice was like delicate china clanking against each other, and made it difficult for Ashe to breathe. “Still...I can help it feel a little better for you. A strong warrior and lord deserves comfort as well.”_

_She then set her lips gently to his wounded flesh, and Ashe had hardly been able to form a sentence around her for a week after._

So...yes. He couldn't blame them all for believing that something was going on between he and Marianne. They spent so much time together, even outside of courtly duties, that they were nearly inseparable. They could finish each others sentences, and could even communicate with but a look. It was always smiles and laughter, with hands brushing against each other as they shared meals side by side. Yes, those were all delicious little moments for the gossips to sink their teeth into and guess at the immense love that had blossomed between the lord and his most trusted advisor.

The annoying part was that they were correct. Ashe Ubert was madly, painfully in love with Marianne von Edmund, and had been for...well, maybe forever.

Ashe shakes his head, realizing how long he had been spacing out just staring at his deceased adoptive family members. He sighs again, and then decides to voice his thoughts.

“What ever would the two of you think of me now? I fought a war, became the lord apparent of the Gaspard territories, and am now frightened of telling a girl that I love her.”

The painted figures stare out regally, their brushed visage offering no reply. Ashe laughs derisively at himself.

“I know, they aren't the same thing. Different kinds of courage and all that. Still, it's been three years at this point. Four since the war. You would imagine that I could tell one beautiful girl, who would never abandon me, exactly how I feel about her...”

He allows the sentence to trail off, awaiting a reply from ghosts. None came, though Ashe can't help but feel grateful for that. He was still a little terrified of ghosts.

“How did he do it, Christophe? How did your father ask your mother to marry him? You were never good at these kinds of conversations, Lonato, so I have to ask those that knew you. And yet...and yet there are almost none left. At least, not any that knew you well. Just me, and nobody ever helped me with this. So how-...so how did you do it? How can I make her mine?”

The silence holds vigil once again. Ashe speaks no more, and simply awaits the usual knock around this time. He doesn't have to wait long, as knuckles rap gently against his door. The young lord shakes himself a little, before replying, “Please, enter.”

He hears the door creak and soft footsteps thud into the room, along with the clinking of tea cups as a tray was placed onto the table before the fireplace. A voice speaks up from behind him then, familiar and comforting. There she was, pretty much exactly on time.

“Ashe, we ran out of your favorite tea, so I brewed a lavender blend instead. I hope you don't...mind...?”

“Hm? Oh, no Marianne. Lavender is lovely. It is your favorite, after all.”

He hopes that his voice was controlled enough to mask his troubled thoughts. Yet, as he turns to face her, he can not dispel the sad look he hadn't even been aware was holding to his face. Marianne's own face grows concerned, and she takes an uncertain step towards him. “Ashe...are you ok?”

“Yes, just feeling a little...nostalgic,” he answers with a sigh. “I'm wondering what they would think of me if they could see me now. Part of me can't help but feel like they would be a little disappointed...”

It wasn't a lie. It just wasn't necessarily the whole truth. He would still feel guilty about it later, he was sure.

“Of course they wouldn't be disappointed with you, Ashe,” Marianne says in a voice that brokers no disagreement. “You're an exceptional young man, they would be so pleased with how you turned out. What's gotten these thoughts into your head all of a sudden?”

_'You, and how badly I want to marry you,' _came his immediate mental reply. He opens his mouth, and stammers incoherently a little. Marianne doesn't even pull a face; she was not one to always have the right words in these situations, either. She would not judge him, nor laugh at his sputtering.

“It's...not something I know how to talk about...with you,” he replies, mulling over each word carefully and finally settling on cowardice. For just a heart beat, Marianne was silent with contemplation of her own. Then, her head lowers slightly and for just a moment, her eyes close in that sad way she used to do so much in school.

“Oh,” she says, her voice just a little quieter. “I understand. Maybe...you would like to enjoy your tea alone tonight?”

Ashe feels his heart sink. '_Stupid! Fix this!'_

“N-no, Marianne, I...that's not what I meant! I want to share this with you, but...it's hard for me. You know that...I'm not always the best with words. They can be a little...frustrating for me.”

He moves over to where she stood in front of the table and, with not a second of hesitation or thought, lifted her chin so that he could look her in the eye. He took in the gentle sight of her; wrapped up in her own sleeping attire, her braids set free and her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She was relaxed and at ease around him in a way that he thought she could never be. “Please,” he implores her, hoping to ease her sorrow. “Don't leave just yet. Stay with me, like usual.”

Her mouth forms into a gentle 'o' shape as her eyes widened, and Ashe becomes exceptionally aware of the intimacy of their position. He was sure his face was running an awkward gamut of expressions as he gently lowers his hand from her face, and steps to the couch. He seats himself in his usual spot, and pats the seat by his side. She hesitates but a moment before joining him with her own cup in hand, the smile on her face once more.

From there, they fall into the comfortable ebb and flow that they had established together. A few words about something that they deemed unimportant, then some silence; stretches of long conversation about things that most other people would deem unimportant, before more silence. Ashe found the silence to be comforting. She was not a natural conversationalist, and he could be an absolute dunce with words. They did not have to pretend around each other in some attempt to make the other feel comfortable. They could just trail off, and focus on their tea, or their own thoughts, or just the simple joy of being together, wrapped in the gentle embrace of silent air and warm feelings.

Today, Ashe had settled a minor land dispute between two nobles before things could get really testy. Each had walked away feeling appropriately self important and fulfilled, and Ashe had avoided a rather large long term headache. He had then done his training, written some paperwork, and sent a congratulations letter to Sylvain and Ingrid on the birth of their first child.

Marianne had gone to the church to teach the children living there how to read. The war had created a lot of orphans, and even though it was four years out there were many who still could not find a new home. She do her best to aid them however in any way possible. After that, she had attended the horses, particularly old man Dorte. He was on in years now; near sighted and a little crotchety. The only ones he allowed to fully brush and groom him were Ashe and Marianne. The stable hands liked to laugh and say that, while they served the lord of the castle, the lord of the castle served the lord of the stable. Ashe liked that, and would laugh along heartily in agreement. It didn't hurt that it seemed to make Marianne exceptionally happy as well.

They reached another lull in conversation when Ashe finally noticed the piece of paper on the serving tray. “Oh, what's that? A letter?”

Marianne seemed to startle a little before eyeing the scrap of paper with...apprehension? Maybe even a hint of embarrassment? That was certainly not something uncommon from the peaceful and pleasant young woman, but it seemed a little more pronounced now than usual.

“I must have accidentally brought it along. It's...a letter,” she says lightly, her tone slightly guarded. Ashe raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed and desiring a longer explanation. “From my father.”

“Oh?” Ashe answers, his curiosity not sated in the least. “And what did Margrave Edmund want of his daughter?”

“Um...it's embarrassing. A little infuriating, too.”

“Well, you don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable. Just know, I'm here for you,” Ashe intoned in a measured voice. He smiles at her and sips his tea. Lavender was a lovely flavor, though it didn't quite match mint for him.

She smiles back tightly, and seems to mull it over for a minute. He took a few more sips of tea before she starts again.

“My father simply wanted to know how I was doing...”

Ashe frowns a little, and begins to sip his tea again as he wonders what she was keeping from him. That was hardly news, or any reason to get defensive.

“...and to let me know that he has decided on an acceptable suitor for me.”

Ashe splutters on his tea. Marianne gasps and pulls back a little in surprise at the outburst. “Sorry! Sorry,” he mutters to her as he cleans his chin. “A...suitor, you say? That's...exciting?”

She groans a little and makes an unhappy face. “No, it isn't. I have no interest in his meddling, and I will be informing him of that post haste.”

Ashe feels relief flood through him, and before he can control himself he sighs. “Oh! That's...what a relief.”

He stiffens a little as he realizes the words had actually slipped out of his mouth. He sends a glance at Marianne, and is relieved to see her giggling a little at him, her expression teasing. “I'm glad that my continued dedication to the spinster life has eased your mind.”

Ashe begins to sputter again, and Marianne's giggling turns into full-blown laughter.

“Well, at least this time you can't get tea on yourself...”

“Sorry,” the young lord apologizes again, though it comes out a little grumpy. “It's just...you would have to leave, right? I don't want that, I don't want that at all.”

Marianne nods in agreement, seemingly pleased with his declaration. “Yes, that would be most terrible. I have made a home here in this territory. I do not wish to leave it now, or ever.”

“Not even for...”

She looks at Ashe questioningly, as he ponders something to himself. Silence reigns for a few more moments, before he turns to look at her. His eyes are intense, and she becomes a little nervous at the scrutiny.

“Not even for a potentially better life?”

“I do not believe that there is a better life for me out there.”

“Why?”

“W-why what, Ashe?” Marianne asks, confused and a little apprehensive.

“Why don't you believe that there could be something better for you out there? Don't you want...to be married? To have a life? You've sacrificed so much coming here. Honestly, I feel so selfish demanding all of your time and attention like this. You deserve so much more than to simply be my guardian...the woman who must always come in and save me.”

“No, don't say that! You have demanded nothing,” Marianne refutes vehemently, and leans in to look at him closer. “I chose this, didn't I? I came here of my own volition, and stay here because I want to. This is my home now. In Gaspard territory. With Delia, Trent, Dorte...and you.”

Ashe is silent, staring into her eyes with this new found intensity. She is doing her best to match it, but the fact of the matter is that even though they were both warriors...he is a knight. A true front line combatant. Even if he was just a big softy at heart, he was still trained mostly in the arts of violence. He could put on a mask that hid away any of his inner light. Still, Marianne would not be daunted. She simply returns his gaze with a determined one of her own.

“I...believe you, Marianne,” he finally says. “But I never asked before...and must now. Why? Why have you given it all up? Why did you come here in the first place?”

He places his tea on the table, and gets closer to her. She flushes red at their proximity, and he wonders if this is too much. Their faces are only about six inches apart. Still...he needs to know why. He needs to hear her tell him. Because...none of it makes any sense to him. Staring into her eyes now, as she contemplates his words and weighs her own, he wonders if maybe there was something more that she wanted.

“Do you remember...when you told me that I should find my own dream? My own mission to follow?”

He frowns a little. “Of course I remember. In the church, at Garreg Mach.”

“Well...I found my dream. It was...to help you in any endeavor that you came across. To make your dreams come true.”

Silence reigns once more. Ashe feels his breathing begin to come in ragged and uneven as they stare into one anothers eyes. The young man knows that his face must have lost all sense of cool as he becomes aware of how close they are, and how hot it was in here. Marianne's face was the even and collected one now. Her breathing was steady and strong. Her hands are folded gently in her lap.

“Why?” Ashe asks her in an incredulous tone. “Why would...why would you ever want that?”

She takes in a deep breath. Then another...and another. Ashe supposes that her exterior is just an incredible facade for her inner tension.

“...think about it for a minute,” comes her quiet, reverent reply. “You've always been so smart, so clever...you'll figure it out.”

So he does. He thinks it over, though only for a few moments. His jaw slackens, as it all hit him at once.

She loves him. She loves him back, in the same way that he loved her. He couldn't believe it, this couldn't be real...but here she was, staring at him with those sweet and innocent eyes. Her whole heart is on display in that look, and she is awaiting his response. He could see the fright beginning to creep into her eyes now. She was so scared that he would reject her.

“Marianne...how long...?”

“When the war ended...there was a moment when you told me about all of your plans for this territory, Ashe. How much you were going to help, and all the things you would accomplish. All for the sake of others. It was so inspiring...but also frightening.”

“I was scared, because even though I knew you were more than capable...I knew that you were also too kind at times. I hope that doesn't sound condescending, it's a good thing! But...some would take advantage of you; I told you as much right then. Yet there you were, ready to face it all and fail if it meant you could bring something good back into these war torn lands. Your strength and compassion...it made me realize that I could never find another you.”

“I had begun to like you the moment you first approached me in the church; even if you thought I was a ghost,” she giggled fondly at the old memory, her expression wistful. “But this...it made me realize just how lucky I was to have stumbled upon you that night. Just how happy you have made me since then. Just how much I love you. And so...I will follow where you lead, Ashe Ubert. Even if I never get to love you the way I would like, I want to always be with you. I had many people help me with my issues over the years...but you helped me realize how to be the person I wanted to be.”

Ashe can only stare at her, mouth agape. That was...that was...

A minute passes. Two. They stare at each other in silence, and he can see her getting steadily more nervous. He tries to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. She sighs then, and he sees his window of opportunity closing on him. He needs to do something! He needs to take action! What could he do, though? He needs...to take...action...

“I understand if this isn't what you were hoping to hear, Ashe, but- mm!”

Ashe silences her by placing his mouth against hers. His hands grip her face softly. She reaches her own hands up shakily and grabs his bigger ones, pulling herself so that they were squashed together.

Ashe becomes starkly aware of just how little either of them are wearing at this point. She had pushed her ample chest flush against him, and the way he could _feel _her caused his body to...react. Embarrassingly; immediately.

However, any shyness he may feel is scattered in the breeze as she moans into his mouth. Her own opens slightly, invitingly, and his tongue obliges the invitation with vigor. They pull each other as close as humanly possible as their tongues continue to dance in the others mouth. He imagined it wasn't a very graceful dance to watch, but that mattered little. They were too drunk to care about such things- drunk on heat, on movement, on the little sounds they were making and the passion that had been simmering for so long.

Marianne places her hands on Ashe's chest and pushes him down until he lies flat on his back. Their mouths continue to work against each other, and he decides to get more bold with his hands. He runs his hands across her body, and she positions herself to grant him easier access to every intoxicating curve. He explores her, and she gasps and moans as he touches areas that are, apparently, more sensitive than others.

Eventually, she pushes herself away from him and gazes down at him from where she is straddled. Her eyes half lidded, she moves her hands to the bottom hem of her nightdress, all bunched up around where she is balancing on Ashe's waist. She pulls up slowly, revealing every inch of her porcelain skin to his wide and unbelieving eyes. She tosses her now removed garment to the side, before hooking a finger into the first button on his on nightshirt. She struggles with it for a moment, her face heating up to levels Ashe didn't believe were possible.

“Um,” she says shyly, and she bites her lip in anticipation. “Could you...?”

He obliges with shaky hands. The buttons come loose and Ashe leans up awkwardly as he tries to pull the shirt off. Marianne attempts to help him, but they end up getting in each others way and giggling at the silliness of it all. He abandons the pursuit for now and grabs her shoulders; he pulls her down, holding her flush against him once more, but he doesn't kiss her. He stares into her eyes and nuzzles his nose to hers, and she smiles like the sun at him.

No, she isn't the sun...she is the moon. A bright, full moon, lighting the darkness all around her, illuminating the path when you were so close to home but not quite there yet. Safe and warm, inviting and lovely, gentle and omnipresent. She outshone the stars all around, and he was dazzled by her all over again. She has lead him home with that smile; her smile was home. He tries to say something, to give voice to these poetic thoughts, but he can't do it. Instead, he settles on what he's really feeling.

“I love you, Marianne,” he breathes out to her then, before slowly pushing forward for another kiss. He feels their noses brush gently passed each other before their lips met once more. This one wasn't ferocious and provocative like the first, but it burned even brighter.

The final embers of the fire spluttered a little. Marianne pushes the shoulders of Ashe's night shirt down, the cloth obeying commands now. He pushes himself up gingerly, and the arms come down easily now. His torso is bare now, and they are finally closer to even footing.

She ends the kiss, and stares at him in the dying light. “I want you, Ashe. I want you...”

He can't control himself any longer. He lifts her bodily, an arm around her waist and his other holding her up from her rear. Her arms wrap around his neck, and he walks them to his bed before collapsing gently on top of her. She moves in for another kiss, but he pulls her wrists from behind his neck and pins her down. An old memory had triggered in his head- some bit of old, obscene wisdom that Sylvain had forced on the Blue Lions as a joke- and he begins to trail kisses down her neck.

She gasps and moans as he nips and kisses his way down her torso, dragging his hands down to touch her body. He reaches her belly button and moves still lower, until he's at the patch of blue hair so far down her body. She raises her head and looks at him curiously, eyes a little wild now. “Ashe, what are you- ah!”

He presses his mouth to her entrance, and she gasps out with a shudder as Ashe begins to work with his tongue. He holds her waist first, before pushing her legs up and apart, his hands behind her knees and holding taught.

He works into a rhythm, and loses all sense of time as he worships her sex. The only thing he can focus on is the way she quivers and moans, and how the way she smells and tastes. Experiencing her like this, knowing that it's because of what he's doing...it makes him feel powerful, and desirable, and like she belongs to him and him alone. He feels possessive of her in a way that is almost frightening, but right now he can't bring himself to care. All he cares about is Marianne, and the heat and taste of her.

“A-Ashe, I-! Oh!”

The cries that begin to rip from her throat startle him, and he starts to pull away- only for her hands grab at his head and push him back down. She grinds her waist against his mouth, her legs wrapping tightly around his head in a way almost uncomfortable, and with a surge of newly found confidence he redoubles his efforts. She lasts another minute of his relentless assault before she cries out one last time and taps his head. “Ashe, Ashe, that's...I want you. Please, I want you...!”

She releases the grip she had on his head with her thighs, and Ashe brings himself to hover over her. She starts to tug at his night pants, and he pulls them off with her so that he is now as nude as she is.

He hovers over her now, staring at her in the moonlight that covers his bed, and can't help but think how she looks like a painting come to life. Her ponytail had come loose at some point, so her blue locks were splayed out like a halo beneath her head. Her soft, doe eyes stare at him with desire. In the bright luminosity of the moon he can see her cheeks glow warm as she covers herself a little with her arms.

“Um, Ashe,” she says, her tone a little bashful. “You're...staring at me a lot...”

“Oh, uh,” comes his not-so-elegant reply, breath still coming in ragged from his former ministrations. “I'm sorry. You just look...so beautiful...”

He lowers himself then, and places a soft kiss to her nose. She smiles her pretty little smile at that, rubbing her hands down his sides and kissing him back. He places himself at her entrance and she wraps her legs around him. He presses slowly into her, unable to stop the hissing breath that escapes through his teeth as he revels in the sensation. She leans her head back, her eyes closed and her breathing forced into steadiness.

“Are...are you ok, Marianne?” Ashe whispers breathlessly into her neck.

“Mhm,” comes Marianne's light response, and her eyes open. She gives him another of those small smiles he loves so much, and he takes it as a sign to start moving.

He moves his hips in a way that feels natural, and he can't believe the sensation. Another old conversation comes into mind, as do some more words of advice- which had been unwelcome at the time, but were a god send now- from Sylvain. Ashe takes a few breaths and begins to focus on his pace. Keep count, keep a rhythm; one two, one two, one two...that way you don't lose it after a minute and end up feeling like a fool.

He keeps going- one two, one two, one two- and it doesn't take long before she reacts. Moans begin to escape her lips, and Ashe knows he's going to lose his focus. He won't be able to help it. Her breath is tickling his ear, her voice filling up the empty room with his name, and her fingernails begin to dig into his back as her legs wrap tightly around his waist.

One two, one two, one one...no, one two, one two-one two-one two- slow down, one two, one two...

Her teeth are at his ear. Her heavy, sensual breaths feel like they are actually penetrating his skull right now and he can't take it. His hips jerk harder, faster, and he's _fucking _her now, his thoughts turning from sweet and joyful to primal and possessive. She belongs to him, Marianne belongs to Ashe, and he was going to show her just how he wanted her; he's grunting and panting and out of control, _one two-one two-one two..._

And he's gone now, losing himself inside of her with a cry of ecstasy of his own. For a few moments of utter bliss, he's unaware of everything but her and he wishes he could stay like that forever. He takes a little while to calm his breathing down, and she runs her little fingers through his hair. Ashe looks up in a daze, and she was apparently ready for that as her lips plant softly onto his. They pull apart after a few moments, and Ashe removes himself off of and out of her.

Silence holds vigil for a few minutes as they ready themselves for bed. He pulls the blankets up over them and she rests her head onto his chest with a hand running across his abdominals.

“I hope this doesn't need to be said, but I would like to say it anyways,” the young lord begins conversationally, not quite thinking about his words. “I want you to stay here every night. Even before our wedding.”

Marianne startles then, and looks up at him with wide eyes that speak confusion and mild incredulity. “Wedding...? Did...did you just ask me to marry you?”

Ashe feels his mouth go into an 'o' as he realizes how presumptuous and obtuse that statement was. “Oh-! I mean, I just assumed- you know, because we were just- a-a-and, husbands and wives...!”

His face is a blistering mess he's sure, and he clears his throat then. “I really just put my foot in my mouth. That was bad even by my standards.”

She laughs, a lilting sound that lets him know that everything is ok. “Yes, Ashe Ubert. I will be your wife, for now until the day the Goddess takes us.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh, and begins to feel drowsiness overtake his senses. He wants to stay up...he wants to live in this moment more...

“I'm afraid, that...”

“Hm? What are you afraid of, my love?”

“I'm afraid that, if I fall asleep...something will steal you away in the night. That this will all have been a dream,” he finishes, the blackness of night starting to fully overtake his sense.

He feels her arms squeeze around him, as she nuzzles her face deeper into his chest. “I promise you, I'm not going anywhere.”

He believes her so easily, and all begins to fade. He thinks her hears something though, as he fades into slumber... her voice...

“I can't, because...you...are my dream.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a short epilogue chapter planned, and I may put it up soon. We shall see!


End file.
